Chapter 14: Anniversary of Return
On the anniversary of the night I found her in the snow, we did not hold a ceremony.
We left the house lights on and walked the block and back, her hand in mine, the cold air only weather. Inside, we ate at the kitchen counter and left the dining room dark on purpose. Some rooms needed time before they held celebration again. The china remained boxed in the attic. The wedding gifts that had been used as props for someone else’s toast could stay out of sight until we decided otherwise—or forever.
David sent a brief note that the last administrative hold on a disputed personal-property list had closed. I thanked him and deleted the thread. The legal war was over. The marriage was not a war. It was a watch we kept together without needing a third party to define the perimeter.
